


bite sized pieces

by kourota



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Food Metaphors, Gift Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Injury Recovery, M/M, Secret Santa Exchange, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Rivalry, The team is mentioned in the background, also romance is a subplot don't come for my ass, bai bai bitches have fun, listen this is a fic about osamu why would there not be food in it, oh yeah they talk in this accent, platonic bonding and relationships, recovery fic, some fluff exists i guess lol, there is angst by the way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:14:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29631009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kourota/pseuds/kourota
Summary: Osamu did a stupid thing, and he has to deal with the consequences.The consequences being a broken arm and multiple injuries elsewhere. Every day became a living nightmare. He hurts all over, his future's unclear, and he's just so damn lost as to what to do.But luckily, he has his twin to help him pick himself back up when he falls. Oh, and also to tease him about crushes, because that's what pain-in-the-ass brothers are for, right?
Relationships: Kita Shinsuke/Miya Osamu, Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu
Comments: 8
Kudos: 37





	bite sized pieces

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trixie_moon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trixie_moon/gifts).



> Wrote this for the one and only [@trixie_moon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trixie_moon),,, here you go darling~ Thanks for getting me into the Miya twins through your angsty lil fics 'cause I had a blast writing this angsty little recovery fic for you!

It honestly shouldn’t have happened the way it did.

It was supposed to have been a fun and safe outing with the team. They had gone on a trip to the beach to spend some time together before the third years graduated. Kita-san was looking forward to it too in his strange way, fussing about, making sure everyone had their toothbrushes and other amenities. Aran-san made sure to keep the others in check with his usual wit. Everyone was hyped, to say the least.

Osamu even felt like he could deal with his pain in the ass brother for a while.

Sure, they had lost to Karasuno, but they’ll be damned if they didn’t play an incredible match. And Kita-san insisted that they celebrate their victories and their defeats alike, for they were ‘naught but a part of the journey’. Not that he agreed, but it was too much trouble to argue with his captain whose cold hard logic would definitely cut him down.

He was on high spirits, maybe a tad bit too high, which was probably why he did that stupid thing. Stupid Atsumu for pulling that stupid thing off so perfectly. Stupid energy of youth that deluded him into thinking that it would be alright to jump off a cliff and cannonball into the beach. Stupid ledge for giving out under him in the last second. Stupid bones for breaking so easily. Stupid blood for not staying in his body, where it belonged.

Stupid him for nearly killing himself.

He lived, though, thanks to his team acting so quickly and getting help. Not that he remembered anything, of course. They told him what happened after he regained consciousness in the hospital. Atsumu had cried—he knew that without his twin ever admitting to it because the red rimmed eyes and the hoarse voice gave it away. They told him he barely made it because of the blood loss, and that he was lucky he didn’t break his neck or spine.

His body, on the other hand, was a whole other issue.

Three cracked ribs, multiple ligament tears in his hands and ankles, a deep gash in his right calf that needed thirteen stitches, minor fractures in his legs (something about fibula bones that he didn’t quite get), and cuts all over. He couldn’t feel his right arm either. Paralysis of some sort? He didn’t know, and he didn’t want to know. He only hoped it wasn’t permanent.

If it weren’t for the painkillers he’d most certainly be craving death.

He… he didn’t know what he was feeling. Regret? Most certainly. Guilt? Yeah, probably. Sad? Upset? Angry? He wasn’t sure. The doctors suggested that he was probably in shock. He didn’t know whether he agreed or not. It still felt like this was one big nightmare, and that he’d wake up any second in a cold sweat and joke about it to Atsumu who’d yell at him for the bad omen.

But when the painkillers stopped kicking in, the searing and throbbing waves of pain that wrecked through him were enough to tell him that all of this was very much real.

He was broken, and he wasn’t sure if he’d ever recover. He kept drifting in and out of sleep, and his memories were foggier each time he woke up. He’d be confused. He didn’t know anything—he didn’t understand why his body didn’t respond to him the way it used to. Ah, he was injured. Yes, he fell and broke his bones. He was in the hospital. Still hurting. He—

“Stop looking like death, ‘Samu,” someone scolded.

He looked up to see his annoyed twin.

“Doesn’t matter,” he mumbled. “I’m as good as dead.”

“Like hell you are! You’re making Ma sad, ya fucking Donkey. Cheer up a little at least! It ain’t the end of the world!”

“But it’s the end of Volleyball for me.”

Atsumu paused at that, opening and closing his mouth as he tried to say something.

“Ya wanted to start that food thing anyways, right? Now you can just start early! And besides—” he snapped “—why the hell are ya speaking like there ain’t no way for you to heal? We’re still young! We got the youth strength and all in us like Gran said! As long as we eat our stomach full of rice, we can get better in no time! And then we can play together like always!”

“It ain’t that simple.”

Atsumu’s brows furrowed, and his mouth drew taut in a snarl. 

“Whaddya mean it ain’t that simple?”

Osamu was getting irritated now. He had a pounding headache and this argument wasn’t helping. He didn’t want to be optimistic, he wanted to be angry! Frustrated! Pessimistic! He wanted to complain and bitch about, but Atsumu just wouldn’t let him sulk around.

“I need some time alone, ‘Tsumu!” he barked. “I don’t care about anything, I just wanna be left alone!”

“And be all depressed? Hell nah, not on my watch you ain’t doing that. Now shut up and smile!”

“How the fuck you expect me to smile when I can’t even feel my arms? Screw volleyball, I’m not even sure if I can fucking cook anymore! I ruined my own life and you don’t even give me some time to pull myself together?” he fumed. Dropping his voice, he grumbled, “Well, it’s not like I expected you to fuckin understand ‘cause ya got it all anyways. You’d only get it if you were in my place.”

Atsumu looked like someone had slapped him across the face.

“Yer saying you wish I’d’ve been the one who’d gotten hurt?”

Osamu bit his lip. He hadn’t meant that, but he didn’t want to back away now. He was angry, and he just couldn’t bring himself to calm down and deny it.

“Yeah. What of it?”

Atsumu stared at him for a painfully long moment, before he got up and left without a word.

Osamu ignored the pangs in his chest and scoffed. Atsumu was behaving like a child, expecting him to be all peppy when he could barely move. It wasn’t unreasonable to be upset, right?

Right?

\---

Kita-san had come to visit him because he lived nearby, and Osamu didn’t miss the way his voice was softer than usual. He brought fruits and insisted he feed him and help him get better. Osamu didn’t really have much of an appetite but he was too tired to protest against being babied. 

“Yer gonna get better,” Kita-san said after he had fed Osamu an entire mandarin. “Eat, and you’ll heal.”

Somehow, it sounded different than when Atsumu said it, but that might’ve just been Osamu’s pettiness in having to disagree and argue with his twin. It was more reassuring… but he still wasn’t convinced.

“How d’ya know if I’ll get better?” Osamu asked, voice so heavy and beaten it made him sick.

Kita-san looked at him for a moment and smiled, going back to peeling another mandarin.

“Food repairs muscles and gives yer body the energy it requires to repair itself. That’s just how we are, so it’s natural to get better.”

How is it that he made it sound so sure, that he quelled all the doubt and hesitation in his heart with just a few words? Osamu didn’t know, but he very much appreciated the peacefulness whenever Kita-san visited.

But he had to quickly find a way to tell him that he didn’t really like mandarins, else he’d be fed that all the time!

\---

Osamu was discharged a week after he had been admitted. His left leg was in a pretty cool detachable gray cast that matched his hair, and the stitches were wrapped with this weird thing. The doctor had told him to clean it regularly and visit once a week to change the wrap to avoid infection or something. They gave him crutches for now, and a whole bunch of painkillers and meds he didn’t really understand. Ma came to pick him up along with Gran and—surprisingly—his twin.

“Thought ya didn’t want to see me no more, ‘Tsumu?” he taunted him.

“Shut up.” He crossed his arms and leaned back in the seat. “Like I can just stop being yer twin or something. If I could’ve, I would’ve done so long ago.”

“The feeling’s mutual.”

“Glad ta see y’all bickerin’, lads,” Gran chuckled. “Woulda s’pposed ye’d be a tad bit muh mopey ‘bout it.”

“Gran, we can’t understand you,” Atsumu sighed, to which she just laughed.

“Osamu,” Ma spoke up after a long while. “Who’s my strong baby?”

“Ma, we’re almost seventeen,” Osamu groaned. “This is embarrassing.”

“Nonsense! You’ll always be my baby even when you’re a hundred years old. Now, answer the question.”

“Yeah, answer it, ‘Samu,” Atsumu snickered.

“You too, Atsumu,” she chided. “I would’ve let you go if you had just shut your trap, but you went digging your grave so eagerly I can’t help but oblige.”

“Damn it,” he swore.

“Now, who’s my handsome and strong little baby boy?”

“Me,” the twins conceded in unison, burying the last remnants of their dignity in their chests.

“Good. We’ll get through this together, and we’ll get through it damn well. It’s gonna be rough, but we’re the Miyas. We’re made of steel.”

“Isn’t Graphene stronger?” Atsumu quipped.

“Shut up or I’ll ground you.”

\---

Osamu knew it would be rough, being near incapacitated as he was, but that didn’t mean he was ready to face it.

Every little thing that he’d taken for granted came back to taunt him at his face. He was able to move his fingers a little, but his arm was far from being back to normal, and the ever growing doubt that it’d never heal gnawed at his energy and sanity. 

He needed distractions—studying just reminded him of school and gave him a headache, and since Atsumu went to school he had nobody his age to keep him company. Gran helped, but she needed to rest a lot because of her bad hips and he couldn’t really make out what she was saying. Ma kept trying to get him to cheer up, but he just didn’t have the energy to be happy, what with how much he ached and hurt. So he stuck to watching cooking videos and wondering what he’d be doing if none of this ever happened.

He didn’t like admitting it, but he cried a lot. Sometimes it was just a couple of tears and sniffles, other times he had to call Gran or Ma because his chest hurt from how hard he was sobbing. He wanted to do something! He was wasting so much time! He wasn’t allowed to move just yet—pushing himself would only worsen the situation, and it wasn’t like he could bear the pain anyways. But all he could do was try to sleep the aches and throbs away.

Taking a bath was out of the question, so he was stripped and wiped down with a wet cloth, which was incredibly embarrassing. Ma was already swamped with work and here he was, adding to the burden.

Just what kind of a son was he?

“Hey, ‘Samu, the team’s here,” Atsumu interrupted his ruminating.

Huh? That was strange, why were they here?

“Well, would you look at that?” Aran-san chuckled. “I thought you’d be much healthier now that you don’t have to spend so much time with Atsumu, but you look even more worn down.”

“Maybe he loves Atsumu so much he misses him,” Suna teased, that irritating smirk plastered on his face.

“Ew, no.”

“Oi! ‘Samu ya bastard,” Atsumu barked. “I hate you more, you ugly bitch.”

“You both literally have the same face!”

“Now, now,” Kita-san said. “Let’s not make too much of a ruckus. We’re here to support Osamu, not give him a headache by yelling.”

Osamu was thankful for the captain’s words.

“And you—” he turned to Osamu “—why are ya refusing to eat or cooperate in yer recovery?”

Osamu was suddenly not so thankful for the captain’s words.

“I, uhh…”

“Yer probably upset about what happened, and sitting here on yer bed all day long got ya thinking about how little control you had over the situation. So you try to go against the flow of the river and oppose everything you need to do to feel in control and stabilize your thoughts. Am I right?”

Damn it, why the hell was he being reduced to some psychological cliche? And why the hell was it true?

He turned to his twin, who just stuck his tongue out and made an irritating peace sign before smirking.

_ That damn asshole… _

Kita-san laughed softly.

“It’s okay to be upset. It’s okay to throw tantrums, but don’t deny yourself the means to get better. Food is important, and so is rest. I think…” he trailed off a little. “I think yer doing a good job hanging in there when just existing becomes a difficult thing to do.”

The words seemed to envelop him in a soft embrace, like a momentary break from the tempest that threatened to uproot him.

“Oi, are you actually crying?”

“Gimme a phone, quick! Gotta get this on video—hey! What are you—agh! Gimme my phone back, Suna!”

“Shut up, ‘Tsumu,” Osamu grunted, holding his arms in front of him and ducking his head so that they couldn’t see his face. “Ain’t nobody crying here but you.”

“Ninjas cutting onions, aye?” Atsumu was probably smirking, that clown.

The laughter that filled the room was comforting, and Osamu forgot his pain, if only for a short while.

_ He could get through this. His team believed in him. _

\---

“Here.” Atsumu tossed a cover onto his bed. “You’ve slouched enough. Time to start DIY rehab.”

“Did’ja just say DIY rehab?”

“Just open the damn bag, ‘Samu. I ain’t a man of fancy words.”

“Yeah, ya barely qualify as a man.”

“Shut up, asshat.”

Osamu took the cover, and looked inside to see one of those gripping things people used to build finger or grip strength. He held it in his good hand, and slowly placed it on his other one, trying to close his fingers around it. 

They trembled. They trembled like leaves braving the autumn wind. Pins and needles shot through the length of his arm as he struggled to find feeling through the numbness, slowly sinking into a nauseating swampiness and—

“Breathe, ‘Samu.”

He took a deep breath. Tried to hold it, but coughed it out not a second later.

“It’s okay. Ya don’t have to get it right the first time. I’ll be right here to make sure ya pull through, even if it means I gotta whoop yer lousy ass.”

“Shut up,” Osamu managed to laugh breathily. “Hit me, and I’ll tell Ma.”

A few minutes passed with him trying to even out his breathing and calm down.

“Now, try again,” Atsumu said. “Gently. Try to work on feeling the rubber grip for now. Break the goal into bite sized pieces, and you’ll be able to finish the entire bowl.”

Oh, how the times have changed, for his twin to be telling him this and not the other way around as it was back then.

_ When they had first started playing volleyball, Atsumu had reached out far too high, far too soon. He believed with all he had, that he could achieve it—that he was good enough to make his dreams a reality. Which is why, when he came up short of his expectations, it crushed him. He was nowhere near what he aspired to be, and the thought that he might never be good scared him. _

_ Osamu had noticed this, and confronted his brother after one particularly troublesome practice. _

_ “The hell are you doing, ya idiot?” he had yelled at his twin who sat brooding against the wall. “It’s obvious ya ain’t gonna be amazing just when you started off! To be good is to work hard every day and let those efforts build up! It’s like eating a bowl of rice!” _

_ “What does rice have to do with this, idiot ‘Samu?” Atsumu had snapped back.  _

_ “Shut up! Rice is everything!” _

_ “Yer just mighty hungry! And yer making me sick, ‘cause I don’t feel like eating!” _

_ “That’s the problem!” Osamu had placed his hands on his hips. “If ya try to shove the whole bowl of rice in yer mouth, it ain’t gonna fit! That’s why we eat with chopsticks, so that we can take small bites, again and again, and before ya know it, boom! Empty bowl, full stomach!” _

And now here he was, hearing the same thing being said to him.

“Fine,” he relented. “One more time.”

Osamu tried to wrap his fingers around the tough rubber of the grip, just to get a feel of it. He waited till the trembling reduced to something bearable, and then began squeezing down. 

Pins and needles. Nausea. A sickening dread that nothing changed. A—

_ Breathe _ .  _ One bite at a time _ .

He settled for a tiny amount of force and focused on maintaining it. Ten seconds. Then twenty. Thirty! Forty and—

A jolt of pain pierced through his hand. It hurt! It hurt so fucking bad he gasped and let go of the grips. But he couldn’t. His hand had cramped up, and his fingers were numb again except for the center of his palm which felt like someone was crushing it and stabbing it and—

Atsumu grabbed his hand and forced the fingers apart, pressing the tips and rubbing along the veins to soothe the cramp. The pain faded away, and Osamu sank back into his bed, breathing heavily.

“Never thought I’d say this—” he groaned “—but enough rice for today.”

“Fair enough.”

\---

Osamu felt better. His appetite was slowly returning, and he swore he could feel his body healing, slowly but steadily. He tried not to get his hopes up, lest he jinx it. 

Kita-san also called regularly. He had to admit, it was weird to talk to his former captain like he was talking to his friends, but he didn’t really mind the development. As it turned out, Kita-san had already gotten into a really good agriculture university through some familial connections and cracking the entrance exam with an incredible score. He was apparently looking to become a farmer—a rice farmer to be specific.

It was a little embarrassing to admit, but he looked forward to gushing about rice with him.

Osamu wondered if this had anything to do with his increasing appetite, but didn’t bother racking his head over it, sparing himself a couple of brain cells that he used to research about food industries. There were a lot of things he didn’t quite understand—all those legal permits, the documents he had to gather, something about a business statement too. Most of it went over his head, and it got him grinding his teeth in frustration.

“You seem distressed,” Kita-san noted.

“Ah, sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” he softened a little, his shoulders slacking ever so slightly. “What’s bothering you?”

“It’s noth—” Osamu paused. It obviously wasn’t nothing, and Kita-san would just call him out on his crappy excuse. “I just… I guess I’m kind of overwhelmed by how much I don’t know about setting up a food business. Nothing makes sense.”

Kita-san hummed in response.

“It’s only natural to not be able to understand things while starting out,” he pointed out. “Persevere, and yer gonna make it. But, if it’s of any help, ya can try explaining what you’ve read. It’s the best way to understand something.”

“You mean, bounce ideas off you like a sound board?”

“I suppose so, yes.”

“Oh, okay,” Osamu breathed in deeply. “Well…”

And so he spent the next hour trying to explain what he had read, making a few connections in between and dwelling on the questions he was asked in return. He shared his screen and showed Kita-san a few diagrams to elaborate on particularly confusing processes. As it turned out, it was the most productive hour he had in a really long while. 

There was something about talking to Kita-san that calmed him down and helped him see things clearer. It was like he functioned at his 120%, maybe because he felt the need to do better, just for him, or maybe it was because he was naturally more efficient when he was with him. Whenever they talked on Skype calls, when he could see and hear him, he could feel the pain become something like faint background noise.

He also discovered that, despite being a generally quiet person, Kita-san could speak for hours about farming—the latest machines and fertilizers in the market, the subsidies being granted to farmers and how they are the backbone of the economy, how he was experimenting with the traditional methods to see how the yield would differ. It was entrancing to see that slight twinkle in his eyes, the way he almost smiled while talking about something he found interesting.

Osamu enjoyed his presence so much, he was afraid he’d become addicted to him.

\---

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair at all. He had done everything that he was instructed to do, despite how much he loathed it. He gave it his all to heal, to get better—working out just enough that he wouldn’t aggravate his wounds, resting plenty, eating healthy and nutritious food and taking all his meds on time, complying with every request he was asked and yet…

And yet here he was, sobbing as the pounding in his head refused to let him sleep, refused to let him stay awake. It thumped and thumped and throbbed and throbbed and  _ hurt so much _ . His body was burning up with a fever, even though he put so much effort into avoiding this situation at all costs.

Cold, so cold, he needed his blanket.

“Your temperature’s only going to go up if you huddle like that!” Ma scolded, voice laced with concern. “It’s already too high, Osamu. We can’t even go to the hospital now with the heavy rains!”

“ _ Please, don’t take my blanket away from me. I need it. Please. It’s so cold and lonely here. _ ”

“I know it hurts baby, I know it’s so painful for you.” Ma’s voice was heavy. “But I need you to hang in there alright? You’re strong, baby. You can do this. Okay? I’m here for you.”

Osamu groaned as another wave of pain shot through his already sensitive body.

“How I wish I could take away your pain and bear it all in me.” She choked a little on the last syllable. “But… okay here’s what we’ll do. Try to think of something happy, okay?”

“…can’t…”

“Gran?” Ma asked, and Osamu opened his eyes to find his grandmother shuffling towards him.

“When ye were but a wee lamb, ah done sung for ya whenever ye were in a bad way.” She stroked his cheek gently. “D’ya recall?”

Osamu felt like there was such an incident, the memory vague and almost faded… but it was there. Ah… he did remember that time he was incredibly sick. It had been raining cats and dogs then, and his room had been cold and dark too. He could vaguely recall Atsumu sitting beside him and crying, insisting that they sleep together, that he could ‘heal Osamu with his health beam’.

Haha, how adorable his brother had been back then.

_ The moon shines brighter, _ _  
_ _ The cradle wrapped a warm embrace. _

Osamu remembered this song. Gran used to sing it all the time to put them to sleep. Her voice was much raspier now that she was older. It trembled, but the magic still thrived within those words. Osamu could feel the tension seeping away and a soothing relief flooding through his veins.

_ Hush now, child, and go to sleep, _ _  
_ _ Your life and dreams you must chase. _

None of it felt real—like he was ensnared in the realm that dwelled between the real world and the world of dreams. A mysterious place, where he seemed to be floating through a cloudy void rich with colors and flowers whose names he didn’t know. Familiarity and unfamiliarity alike comforted him, telling him everything would be okay, that he was doing an amazing job.

He chased through the prairies, looking for his dream that beckoned him like a mountain looming in the far distance. And while his lungs burned as he ran, he found peace.

\---

Osamu had recovered well from the fever.

Funny as it was, it only lasted a day, and he felt better than ever in three more. Of course, his body was sore all over, but he could breathe, think, eat just about normally. He made a mental note to never take things for granted again.

Atsumu hung around him more, teasing him relentlessly about how he was growing chubbier by the day, which peeved him, but he knew better than to retaliate and give his brother the attention he was seeking.

“Why don’t ya give me more of a reaction, ‘Samu?” Atsumu pouted. “Get mad at me, throw hands and all.”

“Ya think I can punch you with the same hand I can barely hold chopsticks with, ya dumbass?”

“Touche,” he relented. “But you’re seriously not bothered about getting out of shape?”

“I’m working out as much as I can without aggravating the injuries, so I’m doing all I can to keep my body healthy. Besides, gaining a few kilos ain’t gonna hurt nobody.”

“Yeah, I’m sure Kita-san won’t mind.” He winked at him.

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Atsumu just stared at him like he couldn’t believe how stupid he was, and snickered to himself.

“Man, how the hell do we have the same goddamn genes when you’re this oblivious.”

“Oblivious to what?” Osamu was getting annoyed now. “Stop talking in riddles, ‘Tsumu, or imma have to sock you one.”

“Nope. Can’t touch this,” he snorted and made some distance between them. “Use yer singular braincell to figure it out, dumbass.”

Osamu chucked a spoon at his twin, who just kept cackling like an evil Disney villain.

Seriously, what was that bastard even thinking? Sure, he was spending time with Kita-san but it wasn’t like he was being overly attached or anything. He just appreciated the guy’s presence, it wasn’t like he actually liked him or something… right?

Right?

It wasn’t like he… was in love or… 

Wait.

Wait, wait, wait.

Oh hell no, this wasn’t happening.

“‘Tsumu?” he called out, loathing the way his voice was an entire octave higher. “What have you done?”

Atsumu stopped his cackling, stared at him, and immediately resumed it.

“Congratu-fucking-lations, ‘Samu. You’ve unlocked ‘feelings’,” he snorted. “How does it feel to realize ya got a big fat crush on yer former captain?”

“It ain’t a crush!”

“Please do enlighten me, oh wise one, the fuck it otherwise is.”

“It…” Osamu trailed off, trying to gather his wits. “It’s just that I appreciate his company, ’kay? His presence makes me feel relaxed, like I can achieve anything, like I ought to do my best and show him that I ain’t just some scrub, that I’m awesome, or something I don’t know. I just… I guess he makes me want to be my best. I enjoy talking to him a lot, and whenever he talks he just lights up, okay? You should see him! He looks so adorable and I can’t help but want to listen to him more and more, ya feel?”

“That’s probably the gayest thing I’ve ever heard in my entire life,” Atsumu said, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Bruh, yer so in love, ya put the ‘whipped’ in ‘whipped cream’.”

Osamu felt flames dancing atop his cheeks, and sputtered out random nonsense to try and defend himself, but he drew up blank.

“I hate you so fucking much,” he grumbled, burying his face in a pillow.

“‘Samu.”

“…yeah?”

“Wait till everyone else finds out about this. I won’t tell the captain himself, of course. That’s yer job.”

Osamu groaned.

\---

“It’s only a possibility, that’s all,” the doctor said. “I’m informing you so that you won’t be caught off guard, should the situation arise.”

_ Easy for her to say. She wasn’t the one who had to worry about a potential end to her career and future. _

“Hey, Osamu, you okay?” Ma asked.

“‘M fine, I suppose. Just… not sure what to make of the surgery.”

“Again, there’s only a 2% chance that you’ll even have to go through it. Your hand isn’t responsive to the healing, but that could just be your body taking time to slowly repair everything, given the many injuries. We’ll wait and see how things turn out.”

Osamu really hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Just the thought of his arm never healing…

It filled him with an unspeakable dread.

_ Afterall, who would he be if not for what he could do? _

\---

Gran had been spending a lot of time by his side, and while Osamu had initially felt irritated by how he had to strain himself to understand what she was saying, he soon grew accustomed to her way of speaking, and enjoyed her company. It served as a good distraction from the thought of the surgery that tugged at the seams of his patience.

He especially looked forward to the stories she told him from when she was a child.

Apparently Gran was quite mischievous as a child, chasing after all kinds of birds and animals, climbing walls and scaring her neighbours, all sorts of stuff that would get her in trouble. One time, while playing hide and seek, she had climbed a tree and hid in it, and then promptly fell asleep till nightfall. Her parents had been worried sick and had contacted the cops and all, only to find her walking back home at 2:00 am after a sound sleep.

“I bet ya got into a load of trouble for that,” Osamu managed to say after calming down from a five minute long laughing fit.

“Ah sure did, boy. Ah sure did,” she chuckled. “Ye should’ve seen how me mum came for mah behind. Ah knew ah done messed up.”

Atsumu occasionally joined them, when he’d finished with work from school and volleyball practice.

“It ain’t fair how yer hogging Gran, ‘Samu,” he complained. “I wanna know about her badass adventures too.”

“Shut up, ‘Tsumu. You get to play volleyball, I get to hog Gran all I want.”

“Jackass.” Atsumu stuck his tongue out. “I hate you.”

“Now, now,” Gran interrupted, smiling. “Ah got enough o’ lil old me to suffice for both y’all tykes.”

The twins cheered in unison.

Gran told them about all the pranks she pulled on people, how she nearly got suspended from school for hiding a Shiba Inu in the Lab, how she made friends with this money laundering thug because they liked the same movies. She even gave them tips on how to hide things so nobody would find them, how to sneak out without getting caught, and all sorts of fun wisdom she’d acquired over the years.

“Say, Gran, have ya ever fallen in love?” Osamu asked when they were all chilling in his room.

“I wonder what this is about,” Atsumu snickered and Osamu chucked a pillow at him.

“Ah, the good ol’ times when yer heart’s a skippin’ and yer drunk on feelin’s,” Gran mused, her voice laced with nostalgia. “Tis a mem’ry y’ain’t gon forget even when yer brittle.”

“Wha—Gran, you got a man?” Atsumu exclaimed, his eyes twinkling. “Was it Gramps?”

“Nah, yer Gramps an’ ah met after. Mah first’s a lass.”

“A lass?” Osamu asked, confused.

“Aye. A girl. A fine one at that. She and ah been done messin’ around lots ‘fore she up and left for the city. ‘Twas a shame. Ah’d finally gotten us a wee kitty too ‘cause we ain’t got the means to make kids.”

“Gran, yer an icon.” Atsumu whistled and cackled. “Learn from her, ‘Samu. Grow a spine and confess to Kita-san already!

“Wh—What the hell?” Osamu sputtered.

“Oh my, who’s confessing to whom?” Ma walked in at the absolute worst moment. 

“Ma, ya can’t just ask that!” At this point Osamu was grasping for the remnants of his dignity.

“Ma, ‘Samu has something to tell you,” Atsumu drawled dodging everything Osamu was chucking at him.

“What is it, baby?”

Osamu paused, running all possible scenarios through his head. He knew Ma’s stance on the LGBTQ community, and he knew he had nothing to worry about, but he was beyond embarrassed to admit that he liked someone, especially to Ma of all people. He most certainly didn’t have the energy to deal with the relentless tirade of teasing that was wont to follow.

“Promise me ya won’t tease me?”

Ma nodded, a little too eagerly.

“I… I like Kita-san.”

The room was immediately flooded with loud cheers from Atsumu and Ma, who gave each other high fives and danced about merrily.

“Oh how my lovely child has finally tasted the sweet nectar of love!” Ma exclaimed dramatically, draping herself over a chair. “How joyous a day it is today!”

“Now all that’s left is for him to court the Final Boss himself! I shall prep you for this battle myself, my inferior self.”

“How do I unsubscribe from you two?” Osamu buried his face in the pillows.

\---

He knew the second Ma walked into the house that something was wrong.

Her smile was calculated and practiced, and it never reached her eyes. Everything about her body language seemed measured and careful, like she didn’t want to give away anything she was thinking.

He didn’t like that. He didn’t like it one bit, because his own paranoid thoughts struggled against the chains, and somewhere in the back of his mind, a muted siren blared. He knew what was coming, he knew what she was going to tell him, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to think it. The numbness kept him from embracing the thought, from preparing himself for what she was about to say.

“Osamu…”

Like the word was some sort of spell, the numbness shattered.

“I’m going to die, aren’t I?” he rasped as something terribly heavy pressed down on his chest, making it hard to breathe. “I’m going to fucking die.”

“Osamu! That’s not—”

“Shut up, Ma! I’m going to die, or at least my hand is going to be chopped off ‘cause it’s more useless than I am!” He laughed bitterly. “I’m gonna lose my hand forever and I’ll never be able to cook again, never be able to catch my dreams, ‘cause I’ll be a fucking disabled piece of crap—”

A searing pain flared across the side of his face.

Ah… he was slapped.

“Do you even hear what you’re saying?” Ma hissed. “What the hell is that bullshit that you’re spewing? You’re going to die? You’re going to lose your arm forever?” Her voice wavered, and Osamu’s heart dropped when he looked up to see the rage and pain in her eyes. “Sounds like you really wish that would happen.”

Osamu opened and closed his mouth multiple times. No matter what he wanted to say, it didn’t justify his earlier outburst. He couldn’t deny what she said, neither could he agree. The guilt now weighed down on him, but for some reason, he wasn’t sinking.

“I… I’m sorry.”

Her expression softened, and tears pooled in her eyes.

“I’m sorry too, baby,” she cried softly and wrapped him in a tight and warm hug. “I had no right to slap you like that. Oh gods, I should  _ not _ have slapped you. I’m so sorry, baby. I…”

“No, trust me, it helped. I… I can think clearer now and… I overreacted.”

She sighed.

“No matter what you do, I have no right to hit you.”

“And I have no right to yell at ya, especially when none of this is yer fault. I’m just…” He took a shaky breath. “I’m scared, Ma.”

Osamu buried his face in her shoulder, trying to gather himself. He tried to muffle the sniffling and the sobs, but he just couldn’t hold his breath for long enough.

“Just cry it out, darling,” she whispered, stroking his hair gently, soothingly. “Just cry it out.”

And he did just that.

He didn’t know how long he’d broken down, how long they’d stayed like that, but at some point, he had heard Atsumu’s concerned voice, Nan shushing him, and then nothing else. Just a lull of a memory where he drifted in and out, crying for all sorts of reasons. Crying because he thought it was unfair, crying because his leg had begun throbbing, crying because he was weary from all the tears, and crying because he was afraid. Afraid because he could no longer see the path ahead of him for a heavy, heavy cloak covered his eyes, and he didn’t know if he had the strength to take it off.

And as the tears drained him, as he let every nightmare haunt him till they all faded away into nothingness, Osamu felt the warmth of his mother’s embrace, the drumbeats of her heart humming a familiar lullaby that lulled him into a sense of comfort and safety. He could feel the hiccups dying down, the sobs jolted him less frequently, and he could take longer, deeper breaths without shaking.

He sighed in relief as he felt the usual calm return to him.

A hand grabbed his and pulled him up, slinging his arm over and carrying his weight, leading him somewhere and… ah, he was on the sofa. So tired… so sleepy… he could barely understand what was going on around him, but he swore he could hear Atsumu’s voice telling him something… ah well, he’d ask him once he…

…

“Hey, ‘Samu, wake up.”

Osamu’s eyes fluttered open automatically, to see his twin’s face, upside down, and inches away from his face. He sat up, yawning loudly and rubbing his eyes as he tried to remember things.

“Time?”

“Ya clocked out for four hours, dumbass.” Atsumu clicked his tongue. “It’s time for dinner and I figured ya wouldn’t wanna miss it. We’ve rice.”

Osamu hummed, just as his stomach rumbled loudly.

“Oops,” he chuckled. “Thanks, ‘Tsumu.”

“Ew, stop that.”

“Stop what?” Osamu was confused.

“Being nice, that ain’t like you at all.”

“Ya fuckin—” He caught himself before he swore out loud, lest Ma hear it and whoop his ass. “Ya Donkey!”

“Takes one to know one,” Atsumu sing-songed, skipping away to the dining table. “Get here or I’ll eat your share too.”

Osamu yelled at him and looked around for his crutches, which had been placed right next to the sofa so that he could reach them easily. The cast had been removed, but he was advised not to overexert himself lest the wound opened up again, which would mean multiple trips to the hospital and painful stitches. He grabbed them and hobbled over to where he could smell delicious curry and the rich steam of cooked rice.

“Man, I’m starving.”

\---

Ma had confirmed his suspicions about him needing a surgery after all if he were to get his hand back to normal.

“You have a choice, Osamu,” she said, holding his hand between her tiny ones. “The way it is right now, you won’t have complete control over it, but you can make do with work that doesn’t require finesse. But it will be far from normal. If… if you want to try surgery, there’s a fifty-fifty chance that you’ll be able to return it back to the way it was, with additional rehab of course. But…”

“If it fails… what happens?” he asked, steeling his nerves for the worst.

“You’ll lose all feeling in your arm. Permanent paralysis.”

The words burned like acid in Osamu’s ears. That would mean a definitive end to his dream as a chef. Sure, he could just oversee the business, but… he wouldn’t just be satisfied by watching over things. He had to do it himself, that was his calling.

The way he was right now… he might be able to just get by doing other things and being an average man.

_ “What kind of guy would I be, to settle for something mediocre when the skies await?” _

“I’ll think about it, Ma,” he said. “I need some time to think this through.”

“Of course, baby. Take all the time you need,” she reassured. “If you ever need to talk to me, you know I’ll always be here for you. And I suggest you talk about this with other people too.”

“Other people like?”

“What, you forgot me already?” Atsumu popped up behind him. “Rude, ya Gorilla.”

“It’s not like yer memorable to begin with.”

“What the—” He bit his tongue as Ma narrowed her eyes at him. “I’ll have ya know I’m super duper amazing. So amazing, ya can’t help but notice me as I shine!”

“I’m talking about reality, not yer dreams, ‘Tsumu.”

“Oh to hell with you, ‘Samu,” he scoffed, sticking his tongue out. “I’m the better twin! Bleh!”

Osamu chuckled at his twin’s childish antics that never failed to lift his mood.

“I have to go now, Osamu. Work calls.” Ma got up and headed for the door. “But you know I’m just a call away, right?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Ma.”

“Love you brats!” She blew kisses at the twins and left.

“She really thinks we’re still six years old, doesn’t she?” Atsumu plopped down next to him.

“Fair enough, considering that’s yer mental age.”

“Would it kill ya to be just a li’l nice?” he squawked indignantly. “I’m trying to be nice to ya ‘cause yer hurting and all!”

“I’ll be fine,” Osamu sighed.

“I mean, yeah, but ya just found out that ya gotta deal with a twisted game of luck if you even wanna take a shot at yer dreams, so I ain’t gonna blame you if yer not completely fine.”

“I…” Osamu trailed off as he tried to word out his thoughts. “I don’t know whether I should risk the surgery or just stick with what I’ve got. Right now, I can be an average man with my hand like this. But if things go south… I ain’t gonna be able to do nothing.”

“So yer content with just being average?” Atsumu asked, face completely unreadable.

“Of course not! But given the givens…”

“It ain’t my decision to make, but just know this—” his twin’s voice was a whole octave lower, laced with undertones of rage. “I think there’s nothing more disgusting than a coward who’s too scared to chase after his dreams.”

Osamu felt like he had been doused in ice cold water, which, instead of shutting him up, enraged him.

“Ya don’t know what it’s fucking like to be in my position, so don’t go spouting some cocksure bullshit!” he snapped, grabbing Atsumu by the scruff of his shirt with his left hand. “ _ You’re  _ disgusted that  _ I’m  _ hesitating? Shut the hell up and stop making it harder for me to make a decision!”

Atsumu’s face was all scrunched up with how hard he was frowning.

"So what, yer just gonna to admit defeat? Settle for something mediocre when ya got the potential to aim higher?"

“If I lose my arm, it’s game over!” Osamu yelled. “Game fucking over because I ain’t… I ain’t someone like you, ‘Tsumu.”

“Whaddya mean?” he growled.

“Yer the kind of guy who can give it his all, who will shine no matter what ya do. The kind that just reaches for the top without another care in the world. But me… I ain’t got nothing going for me but my curiosity for cooking, just a feeling that I want to try it out. I ain’t got a burning passion for it, and if I’m to make it big… I gotta be in peak condition. Without my hand, that won’t ever come true.”

Atsumu stared at him, letting the words sink in.

“This ain’t you.”

“Huh?”

“I said—” Atsumu snarled “—this ain’t you! Yer not the kind of guy who can make it big? Bullshit. If that were true, I would’ve left yer sorry ass a long time ago. And you know what? It fucking hurts me too, to see you like this.”

“Oh, shut up—”

“Let me fucking finish saying what I got to say.” Atsumu’s eyes glistened, tears threatening to spill over. “Ya don’t think I wish things would’ve happened differently? That what happened ain’t even partially my fault?” His voice cracked on the last word. “When you said ya wished it had happened to me instead, I felt that. But… thinking like that ain’t gonna solve anything. I know it’s scary. I know what it feels like to be a zero.”

The tears were flowing by now, dripping down his face, onto the floor.

“But by my side, I had you. Ya helped me get back up, got my ass back in gear. Ya didn’t let me quit volleyball, and now—” Atsumu stuck out his hand, index finger pointing to him “—I ain’t gonna let you quit either.”

“But…”

“Yer assuming the surgery’s gonna go wrong. Ya don’t know that, so don’t go quitting on me. You deserve more than to be an average guy, ‘Samu!”

Osamu had a realization—that his annoying, stupid, ugly, asshole of a twin actually cared incredibly deeply about him—and the feeling of love that gushed through him in torrents made his chest squeeze up, and there was nothing that could stop the tears.

“Fuck, why the hell are we crying like a bunch o’ losers.”

The twins elapsed into a silence, just staring at their hands, twiddling with the pillows… thinking.

“Now, I don’t give two flying fucks what decision you make.” Atsumu was the one to break the silence. “I want you to do what’s best for ya, whatever’s gonna help ya reach the top. Don’t choose as a coward, choose as a fighter. Dammit, I thought you were the one with custody of the brain cells between us. Just how fucking thick did yer skull get for ya to act so fucking dumb, ya donkey?”

He really didn’t have anything to say for himself.

_ Thoughts. _

So many of them ran through his head, and instead of feeling overwhelmed, he began picking through them with a sense of determination. And yet… the doubts seeped through. He didn’t know what to do.

“What if I fall again?” Osamu’s voice was a mere whisper.

“‘Samu.” Atsumu called his name with a ferocious confidence, and when Osamu raised his head, he could see a slight spark in his eyes.

“What if you fly?”

\---

It was the day before the surgery.

Osamu had decided to go with it, to take his chances with fate. Of course, it wasn’t an easy decision to make. He was scared, but there was also this hope somewhere deep inside him, and he wanted to trust it. It took him a lot of effort not to second guess himself every minute, but he pulled through.

After all, he’d rather regret doing something than regret not doing anything.

To distract himself, he had been poring over effective business statements and running calculations on the fixed costs he’d incur, SWOT analysis, the standard in the market and various promotion policies he could use to keep up with the competition. However, he was most focused on the product itself. What did he want to sell? What made his food different from the others, and why would it matter to the people?

It helped, in its own way. For one, he felt more confident that he’d be able to pull through. And… cheesily enough, it felt like he was taking a vow to succeed. 

“Hey, ‘Tsumu.”

His twin hummed, continuing to read his Jump book.

“If things go well… I think I’m gonna confess to Kita-san.”

That made Atsumu look up.

“For real?” he asked, that stupid grin plastered on his face. “Are ya for real?”

“Yeah. Why the hell are you so excited?”

“Why the hell would I not be?” he exclaimed. “My little brother’s making the effort to grow a spine and ask his  _ True Love _ out!”

“True—what?” Osamu sputtered, the tips of his ears burning.

“Kita and ‘Samu, sitting on a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G~” Atsumu sing-songed, dodging the various missiles being hurtled at him. “First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby—” he stopped abruptly. “Hey, what’s the gay version of this song?”

“Like hell I know, ya monkey!” Osamu was running out of things to throw at his twin. “Dammit, why does my aim suck so bad?”

“Yer gonna confess to Kita-san!” Atsumu cackled. “What brought about this mighty burst of bravery, oh young one?”

“I—” Osamu sighed, exasperated. “I just wanna make a list of things imma do once I get better from the surgery.”

That made Atsumu fall silent.

“What is this, a death flag?”

“What?” Osamu asked, incredulous.

“Ya sound like yer going to war, and that you’ll never come back, Dumbass ‘Samu,” he chided. “Yer gonna be mighty fine, so stop worrying yer last brain cell over this.”

“Yeah. Yer right.”

Atsumu smirked a little.

“Of course I’m right. Always am,” he gloated. “But I can’t believe yer gonna confess.”

“I love Kita-san!” Osamu exclaimed. “Actually, it’s hard not to love him. He’s like the walking talking personification of perfection. And, I guess I wanna be like him too. Don’t you see how handsome he is? He’s smart, clean, kind, helpful, hardworking, beautiful, and—”

“‘Samu,” Atsumu interrupted him.

“What? I’m not allowed to gush about my crush or something? Wh—”

“Oh god, just shut up, yer embarrassing yerself.”

“Who cares? I—”

Osamu then noticed his brother’s eyes were slightly wide, and he wasn’t looking at him, instead at the door. He turned around and—

He could feel his heart that was just galloping about in his chest come to a screeching halt.

Kita-san was standing right there.

Staring.

With wide eyes.

_ How pretty they were. _

“’scuse me,” he blurted and left, sliding the door shut.

Osamu frantically grabbed around for his crutches and practically leapt out of bed, rushing to catch up to Kita-san. 

_ Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no! He’d fucked up! He… oh god. _

“Kita-san! Wait; I can explain!” he yelled out.

Luckily, Kita-san was just standing outside his room, back against the wall, and looking down. When Osamu had popped up, he raised an arm to hide his face.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for you to find out like that! I just—”

“…too.”

“What?”

“I… I’m happy you like me, for some reason.” His voice was so soft. “The things ya said were a little embarrassing, but… they make me happy. That you think that way.”

Osamu felt an explosion of butterflies and bright colors in his stomach, and he nearly passed out from the giddiness.

“But there’s a proper way to do this,” Kita-san said, and before Osamu’s heart could drop, he continued. “Once you get better, I’ll hear yer confession. And then, I’ll give ya my answer.”

“It’s… a yes?”

“You’re so impatient, Osamu.” Kita-san chuckled.

“That’s not what I—”

“It’ll always be a yes from me,” Kita-san said softly, cheeks dusted with the slightest of blushes, eyes averted in a coy fashion.

Osamu was pretty sure that sentence single-handedly fried his circuits.

\---

[ **_six months later_ ** ]

“Hey, ‘Samu, what’re ya dawdling around for?” Atsumu yelled. “Haul yer ass here already! We’re gonna be late for the get-together!”

Osamu just hummed in response.

It was strange, being outside, on his own feet, like everything had happened was just one big nightmare he had finally awaken from. And he’d believe that too, if it weren’t for the scars on his arm and leg. They had healed. He still had to be careful with not pushing himself too far but for now… he was okay.

And yet, there was this weird feeling in his chest.

_ Ah… he was nervous. _

Osamu took a deep breath.

“HEY! ‘TSUMU!”

His twin leapt a solid couple of feet into the air and turned around, confusion and concern plastered on his face as clear as the day.

“The fuck you hollerin’ for?”

“I’M HUNGRY AS HELL!” he bellowed.

Man, did it feel liberating to just get that out of his chest. Sometimes, thinking of it wasn’t enough—he had to make his ears hear those words loud and clear, and saying that gave him a sense of satisfaction, like he was heading down the right road. It gave him strength, and made him feel like he could just conquer the world if he set his mind to it.

It made him feel invincible, and invincibly hungry.

“Didn’t ya just wolf down a couple of bowls of rice? Did’ja finally lose it, ‘Samu, ya gluttonous monster?”

Well… it wasn’t like he could expect his twin to read the atmosphere with how much of an idiot he was.

“I don’t mean that kind of hunger, ya idiot.”

Realization dawned on his twin’s face.

“Either ways, yer one hell of a greedy bastard.” He snorted.

“Damn straight, I am.”

Just as those words left Osamu’s lips, he realized the opportunity he had presented to his twin for a fatal strike down, and judging by the downright  _ evil _ smirk he had on his face, Atsumu had realized it too.

“Don’t ya dare say it—”

“Yer about as straight as the rainbow hula hoop Gran bought for ya, ‘Samu.”

“ _ Perish. _ ”

_ Damn that ‘Tsumu. _

“So,” Atsumu began after a cackling fit. “How’s it going with yer  _ boyfriend _ ~”

“I… Actually I’m gonna confess properly today. Ya know, I promised him an actual confession instead of the super embarrassing not-confession he’d heard accidentally back then? That’s… today.”

“Then what the hell are ya still doing here? Go rush up to him with a bouquet of flowers, some chocolate, get down on one knee, and declare yer undying love!”

Before he could even respond to that horrendously sappy idea, he was shoved around—first by his twin, then by his entire team who appeared from who knew where, and he finally found himself standing in a park with only Kita-san right next to him.

“Uh… hi,” he began, with the eloquence of a poet who gazed at the moon in its full splendor.

“We’ve already exchanged greetings a while back, Osamu,” Kita-san pointed out. “Twice, on yer insistence.”

“Oh! I see.” 

_ Damn it, what was he fumbling around for? _

“You’re nervous.”

“Not—not really.”

“To be frank,” Kita-san looked away. “I am too. Just a tad bit.”

“ _ You’re _ nervous?” 

Well, that was news to him. He didn’t think Kita-san was the type to even know what that word meant!

“It’s not every day I get a confession from someone I like.”

Ah, there he went, just making his heart swell with so much love Osamu really thought he’d explode from how fuzzy he was feeling. The cold air didn’t even seem that cold anymore, and all at once, the park seemed like it was a painting straight out of a fairy tale. Lush pink petals floating about from the trees, the sky being coated in the lightest shade of pastel blue, the sun just shyly peeking out from behind the clouds, and the smell of something so, so sweet that filled the air.

The only thing more beautiful than all that was the boy in front of him.

“Kita-san.”

“Yes?”

“Ya make me want to be the best version of myself. When I’m with ya… it feels natural to win. And it ain’t just that.” Osamu took a deep breath, gathering his courage. “Ya sate my hunger in a way no other can—ya fill me up with love, so much love that sometimes I don’t know what to do with it. Every time we talk, it’s like ya bring the stars down to me, or take me up to them so that I can catch my dreams. When I’m with ya… it feels like I’m immune to the ravages of time.”

He looked up, right into Kita-san’s eyes.

“And… I’d like to make ya feel the same way too. Would you… like to be with me?”

Kita-san’s face was lit up in the softest of smiles and the lightest of blushes that matched the Sakura petals around them, and Osamu swore his eyes were glistening.

“I do.”

**\- - x - -**


End file.
